


Vendetta

by socialclimb (sunsh1neriptide)



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: (not graphic), Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Small Town, M/M, Murder, Suicide, uh i don't know what else to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-07-10 14:17:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15951077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsh1neriptide/pseuds/socialclimb
Summary: Pete knew he was in deep shit the moment he first laid eyes on Mikey Way. He didn't know why he was so surprised when everything started going downhill from there.





	1. SITTING ALL ALONE

**Author's Note:**

> my friend over on wattpad came up with the plot and is letting me write it, so this one's for you, raury :)
> 
> based off of the song bellyache by billie eilish.

Pete didn’t even know who in the fucking hell Mikey Way was, and evidently, neither did anybody else, because when their science teacher read out the list of partners for their upcoming project, the room burst out into an uproar of conversation, because nobody recognized the name that had been read out right after Pete’s. Hell, even the teacher’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, because he hadn’t remembered even putting that foreign name on his list.

“I bet he died,” Gabe said loudly from Pete’s left, and he didn’t look up from texting someone underneath his desk. “If my name was Milky Way, I’d die, too.”

“His name isn’t Milky Way, dumbass,” said Patrick from Pete’s right, and Pete wasn’t sure how he’d ended up right in the middle of the two, but it’d been their unspoken seating arrangement ever since the sixth grade and they were all too pussy to change it.

“It’s not like he even goes to this school. It doesn’t matter.”

“Bold of you to assume that,” came a voice from Gabe’s left, and the group of friends all swiveled their heads at once to face the source of said voice.

“Where the hell did you come from?” Gabe pretty much yelled, and that caught the attention of the rest of the class, and now everybody was looking.

“I’ve always been here,” the owner of the voice replied - some lanky kid in a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his eyes - and he blew a bubble with the gum he’d apparently been chewing. “You douchebags just choose to ignore me.”

“Excuse me, what’s your name?” the teacher called, walking over to the side of the room so that he could get a better view of the kid, because really, nobody had watched him walk into the room or even sit down.

“Mikey Way, you dumb fuck,” Pete’s apparent project partner said, and both Gabe and Patrick looked at their friend in the middle - Gabe with his eyebrows raised, Patrick looking concerned. “You just said my name, I don’t get why you’re so surprised to see me here.”

“See me after class,” the teacher responded, and he turned back to his desk to read off more names from his list, but the class kept looking over at Mikey Way.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Mikey snapped, and everyone’s head immediately turned away; hell, even Gabe scooted right a little bit, his chair bumping into Pete’s, and that was when Pete first reckoned that he may have been in some deep shit.

—

“Okay, but like, I know fucking everyone in this goddamn shit hole town,” Gabe was saying around the apple he was eating, “and I swear to god, I’ve never heard of that kid before.”

“I can’t believe you’re still hung up on this,” Patrick said, twirling his pencil in his hand and staring down at his unfinished AP US homework. “Who was JFK’s vice president?”

“Who the hell cares?” Pete said, slamming his open carton of school cafeteria chocolate milk onto the lunch table, a few drops of which flew out and splashed onto his shirt. “I have to work on our science project with a fucking delinquent.”

“I’m sure he’s not that bad,” Patrick replied. “You got milk on my homework.”

“You were the one looking at me all concerned and shit when he called Mr. Hoppus a dumb fuck,” Pete retorted, rubbing his temples, and Gabe patted him on the back reassuringly. “God. I swear, that dude isn’t even on the attendance roll. He doesn’t even go here.”

“He doesn’t even go here!” Gabe repeated, Damian-from-Mean-Girls-style. “Damn, Pete, just tell Hoppus that you don’t want to work with him, and he’ll probably reassign your partner.”

“I’m scared I’m gonna get fucked up if I do. I get serious bad vibes from him, you know?”

“You’re acting like Mikey’s fucking Voldemort,” Patrick said, rolling his eyes as he jotted something down on his milk-covered homework. “He’s probably just going through an edgy phase, like you did last year.”

“I’m still edgy, it’s just internalized,” Pete huffed, taking a long sip from his milk carton. “And he gives me bad vibes, I’m telling you.”

“He’s probably killed a man,” Gabe chimed in, and Patrick let out a heavy sigh.

“I swear, you guys are insane,” he said. “I have AP US in less than fifteen minutes. Shut the hell up and let me do my work.”


	2. MOUTH FULL OF GUM

Mikey didn’t show up to class the next day, or the day after that, or the day after that, and Pete was starting to think that science class on Tuesday had just been a stress-induced hallucination.

It was Sunday morning and Pete was sitting at the bank of the Hudson River with his ratty diary in hand, scribbling down the troubles of the past week as he always did.

Life in the tiny ass town of Corinth, New York, was slow. It was always slow, and nothing ever fucking happened to anyone. The most interesting thing that showed up on local news was when someone’s cat went missing, or when the river overflowed by a few inches, or occasionally when someone had a house fire. Nothing. Happened.

“I know you,” someone said, and Pete looked up from his notebook and felt his soul leave his body when he saw the black-hoodie clad figure standing a few feet away from him, blowing a bubble with his godforsaken gum. “Science partner.”

“My name is Pete,” Pete responded, and he stood. His fight or flight response was going absolutely fucking insane right then, but he pushed it away, because maybe Patrick was right and he should give Mikey a chance. Even if he probably had a gun or something.

“I know.” Mikey took a few more steps forward, fallen leaves crackling underneath his shoes, until he was close enough to Pete that he could reach out his arm and touch the other’s shoulder. Pete flinched, and a brief smile crossed Mikey’s face. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he added, pulling his hood down.

“I didn’t think so,” Pete lied, still pretty much shaking in his sneakers, and it didn’t make things better that Mikey was an entire head and some taller than him. “I’ve never seen you around before.”

“I never make myself seen. It’s better that way.”

“So why’re you talking to me?”

“Because I have to do a project with you, and it would be a total dick move if I didn’t help you out, wouldn’t it?” Mikey crossed his arms and his gaze bore deep into Pete’s skull. He had pretty eyes.

“Since when do you care? You called our science teacher names.”

“Yeah, well you’re not a lameass like he is. I see you around a lot, Pete, and you’re cool. So are your friends.”

Pete felt something relax inside of him. “So to clarify, you’re not gonna kill me.”

Mikey let out a short laugh before answering, “I only kill people who are asking for it.”

“That was a joke, right?”

“Don’t make me add you to my list of dumbasses.” Mikey spit the gum he’d been chewing out onto the ground. “I’m joking.”

“You can’t do that,” Pete said, and Mikey just smirked.

“I do what I want,” he responded, and he ruffled Pete’s hair before walking past him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you,” Pete said, and he turned around to watch Mikey go, but the latter had already disappeared into the bushes that separated the riverbank from the main road.

Pete held his notebook to his chest and frowned. Mikey was more interesting than the news. Pete wondered why he’d never made contact with him before.

—

“Holy shit, he’s here again,” Gabe whispered to Pete when he sat down in his desk the next day, moving his chair as far away from possible from Mikey.

“Gabe, you have to understand that you’re the only one that cares about this anymore,” Patrick said, and Pete leaned back so that he didn’t have to be caught in the middle of his friends’ banter.

From the corner of his eye, Pete saw Mikey salute at him, and the former looked over and returned the gesture. Mikey smiled, but he quickly looked back down at his desk, covering his face with his hood and the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

“See, look, Pete isn’t even scared of him anymore,” Patrick said, and Gabe whipped his head around and frowned at Pete.

“Goddamn,” Gabe said, glancing between his friend and Mikey, “I thought you got bad vibes.”

“Yeah, but I talked to him, and he’s nice,” Pete replied, waving it off. “Patrick was right. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“I guess,” Gabe sighed.


	3. IN THE DRIVEWAY

A beaten up pickup truck pulled into Pete’s driveway after he came home from school on Wednesday.

Pete had been home alone, his parents not coming home from work until later that evening, so he was pretty confused and very alarmed when he saw the unfamiliar car park right there in front of his house. He peered through his closed blinds at the vehicle, watching it back up against the garage door and hearing the engine turn off.

He was about two seconds away from dialing 911 when the driver’s door opened and a familiar figure stepped out - Jesus Christ, Pete recognized who it was the moment he saw the black hoodie, and he let out the breath he’d been unknowingly been holding as he made his way to his house’s entrance.

“Why the fuck are you here?” Pete asked, swinging the door open before Mikey even had a chance to knock, and Mikey flashed one of his “I’m-a-bad-bitch” smiles.

“We have a project to do,” Mikey simply replied, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he hadn’t just shown up uninvited on Pete’s doorstep.

“I never gave you my address.”

“Your friend gave it to me. The one always on your right. I figured it would’ve been easier to ask him instead of hunting you down, since I didn’t get a chance to ask you in science today and I saw him in the hallway. It doesn’t really matter how I got here, though, there’s shit to be done.”

Mikey pushed past Pete and entered the house. He smelled like mint. Pete hated himself for being able to notice that.

“Yeah, okay.” Pete closed the door and watched the other boy wander around his living room.

“Nice place,” Mikey said. “You’re here alone?”

“My parents are at work,” Pete replied, briefly wondering if that was the right answer, especially since he still got slight bad vibes from the whole Mikey situation, but he shook it off quickly. Pete didn’t like it when he was judged, so why did he think that he had the right to judge Mikey?

“Awesome.” Mikey collapsed onto the couch and pulled a box of cigarettes out of his pocket, lighting one and blowing a puff of smoke into the air.

“You can’t do that,” Pete said, and Mikey warily glanced over and flipped the other off.

“I do what I want. We’ve been over this.”

Pete frowned and grabbed his backpack, dragging it over to the couch and pulling out his notes from class. “So what’s the plan?”

“If I’m being completely real with you right now, I don’t have any sort of clue as to what the fuck we’re even doing in class. So you’ve gotta enlighten me first.” Mikey took a drag, tapping ashes from his cigarette into the vase on Pete’s coffee table, and then holding it out to the other boy. “Hey, you want one?”

“I don’t smoke,” Pete responded, and Mikey shrugged as if to say “your loss.” “Are you even passing science?”

“What the hell do you think?” Mikey exhaled heavily and Pete fanned smoke out of his face. “The only reason why I’m doing this goddamned project is because it’d be so fucking uncool if I ditched you and made you do it alone.”

“Since when did you care?”

“Since you’re pretty cute.” Mikey flashed another smile and Pete felt blood rushing to his face. “I’m not trying to fuck things up with cute boys.”

“You’re upfront,” Pete mumbled, trying to hide his stupid blush even though Mikey had already seen it. Nobody had ever really called Pete cute before except for his friends, and even then it was definitely just in a joking matter. “Do you go around telling everyone that?”

“Nah. Just you.” Mikey took another drag, blowing the smoke out through his nose. “You’d be a great partner in crime, Pete Wentz.”

“That sounds sketchy.” Pete leaned back, his head hanging off of the back of the sofa. “What are you trying to get out of me?”

“Friendship? Trust? A makeout session would be nice, too.”

“Number one, I don’t kiss people that smoke,” Pete said. “Number two, there are better ways to ask someone to be their friend.”

“If I put it out, will you kiss me?”

“What?” Pete sat up, trying to mask his shock.

Mikey smirked almost condescendingly and held his cigarette out. “I said, if I put this out, would you kiss me?”

“You’re being serious,” Pete said, glancing between Mikey and his cigarette, Mikey and his cigarette, Mikey and his cigarette. If he was being completely honest, he’d never kissed anyone except for Gabe when he got shitfaced or that one girl from the game of seven minutes in heaven he’d been forced to play at someone’s party in ninth grade, and it was kind of hard to believe that Mikey wasn’t just fucking with him.

Mikey reached over and dropped his cigarette into the flower vase from earlier. “Dead.”

Pete hesitated, almost moving closer, but he stopped himself and crossed his arms. “Take a mint and then maybe I’ll consider.”

“Fuck you. Getting my hopes up and shit.” Mikey shook his head, though he looked amused, and he swung his legs up onto the couch and across Pete’s lap. “Making me waste a perfectly good cigarette the one time I don’t have fucking gum.”

“Whatever.” Pete tore his gaze away from Mikey and shuffled through the science notes he’d set to the side previously. “We should work on the project.”

“Damn, I thought you’d forgotten about that.”

“It’s hard to forget when it’s due in less than two days and you haven’t even started yet. Read through this shit and help me out, will you?”

“You’re lucky I like you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gotta love a filler chapter haha
> 
> if i'm being honest the next few chapters are also 90% filler but it gets good soon i swear


	4. MY FRIENDS AREN'T FAR

“Any of you got a date for homecoming?” Gabe asked as he dumped his bag on the empty chair next to him, sitting down at the gang’s usual lunch table.

“Guess,” Patrick said, rolling his eyes at the fact that his friend even thought of asking the question. “Gabe, it’s us. Who would ask us to homecoming?”

“Someone? I dunno, we’re all hot as hell, I don’t know why nobody’s tried to pick me up yet. I’m single and I’m desperate, damnit,” Gabe retorted, raising his voice at the last sentence, which made a total of one boy at the next table over glance his direction. “We should all just go together.”

“Or you could both crash at my place and we could have a horror movie marathon instead,” Pete suggested, and Gabe clapped his hands in excitement.

“I don’t like horror movies,” Patrick groaned. “How about a Twilight marathon instead?”

“Twilight is dog shit.” Mikey Way pulled out the chair on the other side of the table and sat down, propping his head up on his elbows. “Even the worst horror movie ever put into production is better than thirty seconds of that disgusting sparkly vampire bull.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to say hi,” Pete said, but he couldn’t help but smile at Mikey’s abrupt arrival.

“It’s more fun when you don’t know what’s coming,” Mikey responded, winking quickly at the dark haired boy, and Pete ducked his head when he felt an embarrassing blush creep up on his face.

Gabe frowned, glancing between Mikey and Pete in confusion. “So did you two hook up without telling me, or…?”

“God, no,” Pete said, shaking his head frantically, and Mikey just shrugged. “Just friends.”

“For now,” Mikey offered, and Pete heard Patrick let out a very long sigh from beside him. “I just wish he’d kiss me.”

“I’ll kiss you,” Gabe said, raising his hand. “I’ve always wanted an intimidating goth boyfriend.”

“Gabe,” Patrick sighed, reaching out swatting his hand down.

“Intimidating goth boyfriend,” Mikey repeated, raising an eyebrow, and for no reason in particular it made Pete feel disgustingly jealous. “I kinda like that.”

“Mikey, you should come over to my place after school and help me finish up our project,” Pete interrupted.

Patrick sighed again. “You guys still aren’t done? It’s literally due tomorrow.”

“Procrastination is man’s best friend,” Mikey said, not even bothering to bring up the fact that they’d finished the previous day.

It wasn’t, like, an important detail or anything.

—

Mikey gave Pete a ride home instead of leaving the latter to take the school bus with his friends; the inside of Mikey’s truck didn’t look much nicer than it did on the outside, but at least it had seatbelts, so that was something.

“We finished our project yesterday and you know it,” Mikey said, glancing over at Pete in his mirror and smirking. “You just want an excuse to see me.”

“We can put finishing touches on it,” Pete argued, crossing his arms and sinking back into his seat. “For a better grade. You know.”

“You don’t have to make excuses for us to hang out. We’re friends now, aren’t we?” said Mikey, completely disregarding what the other had just said. “I’m part of your group now, aren’t I?”

Pete bit his lip, “well, we’re more of a democracy, yeah, and I don’t really get to decide myself who sits with us and who doesn’t-”

“As if anyone else wants to sit with you. No offense.”

Pete, deciding to let that conversation die there, reached over and fumbled with the controls on the dashboard. “Where the fuck is the radio?”

“Don’t have one. There’s a CD player, though, I’ve got some shit in the glove box if you care at all.”

Inside the glove box were various unlabeled CDs, probably ripped from illegal music downloading sites (like Pete wasn’t guilty of doing that himself, though).

Pete picked out one CD at random, a disc in a dirty plastic container with “Ray” scribbled on it in fading Sharpie.

“Ray?” Pete asked, looking over at Mikey, and the latter gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“Ex-boyfriend. That’s a mixtape I made for him. Don’t play that one.”

Pete nodded, putting the disc back and pulling out another one. It was completely unmarked, so the darker-haired boy had no idea what he was in store for when he popped it into the CD player.

“Pearl Jam,” Pete sighed in relief when the first few seconds of a song he just barely knew come on. Nothing unusual or concerning.

“You know them?” Mikey said, smiling a little bit when Pete turned it up.

“Not really, but Patrick likes them, so I kinda have to by default.”

“He has good taste.”

“I know he does.”

When Mikey pulled up in Pete’s driveway, the latter hesitated after unbuckling his seatbelt, his hand on the door handle.

“What’re you waiting for?” Mikey asked, turning off the engine and effectively killing the music.

Pete turned, grabbing the sleeve of the other boy’s sweatshirt and pulling him in for a chaste kiss.

It didn’t last long, because Pete was insecure about his ability to kiss people, but when he pulled away Mikey was smiling, clumsily taking his keys out of the ignition and shoving them in his pocket.

“Yeah,” Mikey said, nudging Pete’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Pete said back, letting out a short laugh, and he nearly fell on his ass getting out of the car. 

Mikey put his arm around Pete’s shoulders as they walked into the house. Pete didn’t mind.


	5. IN THE BACK OF MY CAR

It was the evening of homecoming, and Mikey had somehow managed to get his hands on a six-pack of convenience store beer. He and the gang were splitting it, hanging out in the back of Mikey’s pickup.

“I wish someone would invite me to a Halloween party,” Gabe complained, rifling through a costume magazine with one hand and tapping on his beer can with the other. “I’m tired of seeing everyone post on social media about how much fun they’re having at some party I wasn’t invited to. It really brings me down sometimes.”

“Throw your own,” Mikey suggested, taking a puff of his cigarette and blowing it out into the crisp October air; he was lying in Pete’s lap, so the smoke went right into his face, but if that was the price he had to pay to have such a cute boy’s head right there then so be it.

“No one would come, ‘cause we’re lame social outcasts,” Pete said, running his fingers through Mikey’s hair. “We’re spending homecoming in the back of your car drinking shitty beer and being sad.”

“Hey, you get one popular kid to come, the entire school will follow right behind them,” Mikey replied. “They’re like sheep to a shepherd. Chasing after meaningless dreams of high school popularity.”

Gabe was quiet for a moment, taking a sip of his drink and setting the magazine to the side. “My parents are going down to the city from the twenty-seventh to the thirtieth. I can host if we’re really going to do this.”

“Brendon Urie is in choir with me,” Patrick offered. “He’s nice. I can probably get him to come and bring his friends.”

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves plans next weekend,” Mikey said, taking another drag and then putting the cigarette out on the floor.

“Unless nobody shows up,” Pete cut in.

“Then we’ve got an empty house all to ourselves,” Patrick said, “it’s really a win-win situation. I say we have a Twilight marathon.”

“No Twilight!” Gabe shouted, and he threw the costume magazine at Patrick, who laughed and hit it away. “We don’t care that you want to fuck Bella!”

“Your friends are quite something,” Mikey mumbled, watching Gabe and Patrick continue to banter and grabbing Pete’s hand.

Pete smiled. “They’re your friends, too. We’re kind of a package deal.”

“Yeah, but I think Gabe is still scared of me, though.”

“I don’t really blame him, you are kind of intimidating. And creepy, no offense, but I’m into it.”

Mikey sat up and Pete pretended that he wasn’t disappointed that his lap was now empty. “Well, you’re into it, and that’s the only thing that really matters,” he said, taking a sip of his beer and flashing a grin at Pete. “I really like you.”

“Ditto on that,” Pete replied, leaning against Mikey's shoulder, his smile growing obscenely wide when the latter wrapped his arm around Pete’s shoulder.

“We should have a group costume for the party,” Patrick said, paging through the costume magazine Gabe had thrown at him, and promptly reminding Pete that there were other people there, too. “Or is that lame?”

“Promiscuously dressed hospital attendants,” Pete suggested, and Gabe nodded quickly in agreement.

“I can be the doctor, and Pete will be the nurse, ‘cause he’s my bitch,” Mikey said, and that earned a flustered laugh from Pete and the eyebrow raise of the century from Gabe.

“You’re together?” asked Gabe, looking between Mikey and Pete incredulously.

“Like you didn’t see it coming,” Patrick cut in, not looking up from the magazine. “They’ve been giving each other heart eyes for days now.”

Gabe and Mikey stared at each other for an inexplicable unsettling five seconds or so before the former continued with, “and you didn’t tell me the second it happened?”

“You care too much about other people’s lives,” Patrick said. “Anyways, I call being the dude at the front desk when you check into a hospital. I couldn’t actually tend to patients, it’s too scarring. You know.”

“It’s just a fuckin’ costume, ‘Trick,” Pete replied, “sexy nurses don’t go through medical school.”

“So who am I?” Gabe complained, slouching down.

“The patient?” Mikey suggested, and then shrugged when everyone glanced at him. “I dunno. I can’t think of anything else. It could be cool, though, if we were all doctors and he’s the bloody patient that we end up killing at the end of the night.”

Patrick shook his head and flipped the page of the magazine. “That’s not sexy unless you have a blood kink. Completely defeats the purpose.”

\--

Gabe called Pete at around eleven o’clock that night, which wasn’t unusual by any means, but it still took the latter of the two off guard.

“You need to break up with Mikey right now,” Gabe said, before Pete could even get in a hello, and the blunt statement made Pete stop what he was doing.

“What? Why?”

“I dunno, okay, he just gives me horrible vibes. Hella fucking horrible vibes. He’s fucking scary, man, I don’t like him, and I don’t want him to hurt you. I feel like he’s going to hurt you. I’ve been trying to give him a chance like you and Patrick have been saying, I really have, but the way he looks at me sketches me out so much, and I just can’t like him.”

“Gabe,” Pete sighed, “you don’t have to like him. I don’t care. But it’s my relationship, and I like him, and he likes me.”

“You’re being manipulated,” Gabe said. “I swear to god. He’s using you for something, I don’t know what, and it’s freaking me out. He really freaks me out.”

Pete bit his lip, tilting his head even though he knew his friend couldn’t see him over the phone. “Are you jealous?”

“What.” Gabe sounded done. “Am I jealous.”

“Yeah, because you always talk about how you want a relationship, and now I’m in a relationship before you-”

“Pete, I’m trying to protect you. There is something up with Mikey Way, whether or not you choose to believe me, and I don’t want him to hurt you.”

“He’s not going to hurt me.”

Gabe was quiet for a few seconds before letting out a sharp sigh and saying, “goodnight, Pete,” and hanging up.

Pete didn’t believe him, of course not - Gabe had lying tendencies, especially when he was trying to get his way, and they’d been friends long enough for that to have been made clear.

It still gave Pete a bad feeling, but he brushed it off as paranoia. There was nothing wrong with Mikey. He was a good guy with good intentions, and Gabe didn’t have any proof, anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for disappearing for nearly a month, i've just been forgetting to upload the chapters i've been writing onto here :")


	6. LIE THEIR BODIES

The weather cooled down fast in upstate New York, and even though it was mid-October Pete found himself sitting by the river dressed up in two thick sweaters and a beanie.

“It’s quiet out here,” said Mikey, who’d sat himself down next to Pete without any warning whatsoever. “I see why you like writing out here.”

“It’s quiet everywhere in this town,” Pete replied, “it’s kinda boring, but it’s pretty, I guess.”

“Not as pretty as you.” Mikey cupped Pete’s cheek, turning his head, and then leaning in for a kiss.

“Shut up.” Pete elbowed the other boy playfully and dog-eared the page on his notebook, setting it in the damp grass and fallen leaves on his side opposite to Mikey. “What brings you out here?”

Mikey shrugged, smiling just a little bit. “I just like the river. Can I read what you wrote?”

“It’s kinda personal,” Pete said, “like a diary, but not a diary, because I’m not a seven year old girl.”

“My brother used to have a diary,” Mikey commented, crossing his legs. “I read it once. There was some pretty gory shit in there.”

“You have a brother?”

Mikey shrugged, looking down and picking at the grass. “Technically, yeah. I haven’t talked to him in ages, though, and he fucking hates me, anyways.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t hate you-”

“Oh, god, he does,” Mikey said, his tone bitter, “and so does everyone else in my family. But it’s okay. I don’t like them, either, and it’s not like I’ll ever see them again, anyways. I’d be fucking dead if they find me.”

It was then that Pete realized that he and Mikey barely knew each other at all. Mikey had been a stranger up until a few weeks ago, and even when they’d formed some strange romantic bond they’d never talked about anything as personal as this. Pete hadn’t known that Mikey had a brother, or that he apparently didn’t live with his immediate family, and god, Pete had never been to his house, either, where did he even live? Mikey was just shrouded in mystery.

“If they… find you?” Pete kind of felt bad asking questions and prying his way into his somewhat-lover’s life, but Mikey had his guard down and his heart out at the moment, and it was probably extremely rare to catch him in a vulnerable moment like that one, so Pete was going to utilize it. “Are you hiding from them?”

Mikey bit his lip. “I can trust you, right? Can I trust you?”

“I’m the best secret-keeper in the Northeast,” Pete said, “of course you can.”

Mikey mumbled incoherently, sounding vaguely like “that’s what they said” or something along those lines. Then, looking up and wiping the grass on his hands onto his pants, he said, “they disowned me.”

“Oh.” Pete frowned, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I fucking hated them all.” Mikey sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out a loose cigarette and his lighter. After he’d lit it and taken a long drag, he said, “so I just told you a bunch of personal shit, can I read your diary?”

“I don’t call it a diary,” Pete said, but he handed the notebook over. He guessed it was the least he could do.

“It’s a diary.” Mikey flipped through the first few pages and then skipped right to the dog-ear, and Pete watched him anxiously, hoping his writing wasn’t being judged. After a few moments of reading, Mikey looked up, his eyebrows furrowed together in an emotional mixture of concern and puzzlement. “Gabe told you to break up with me?”

“He’s just like that,” Pete explained hastily. “He’s probably just jealous that I found someone before he did or something.”

“What’d he tell you?”

“Nothing much, just that he doesn’t really like you, and he thinks you’re scary and that you’re going to hurt me - you wouldn’t do that, right?”

Mikey shook his head slowly, taking a drag from his cigarette. “No. No, I wouldn’t. Did he tell you anything else?”

“Not really. He just thinks there’s something up with you, which is stupid, right? There’s nothing up with you. You’d tell me if there was, right?”

“What time is it?” Mikey interjected, and Pete pulled his phone out of his pocket to check.

“Almost two-thirty,” he said, “why?”

“I’ve got to go. I’ll see you Monday,” Mikey replied, blowing smoke out of his mouth and kissing Pete on the cheek, and then he got up to leave; by the time Pete turned around to wave goodbye, he was already gone.

Figures, Pete thought, and he picked his pen back up and finished what he’d been writing in his notebook.

\--

Gabe was paranoid, so he’d installed a VPN and opened a private browsing page just to Google “Mikey Way.”

He didn’t know why he hadn’t done it sooner, he guessed he’d just been too afraid of Mikey somehow hacking his computer and then coming to his house to kill him, which was, by the way, a completely valid fear.

The first five or so pages of Google were full of social media accounts belonging to several hundred other Mikey Ways across the globe; the weird part was that none of the accounts belonged to the Corinth, New York version of Mikey Way. Imagine being a teenager without any forms of social media.

It was kind of sad how obsessed Gabe was with finding out more about Mikey; he found himself at the bottom of page fifty three clicking away at the ten thousandth news article containing the words “Mikey" or “Way,” and he resolved that he’d just give up and stop looking if this shit wasn’t relevant, because it was starting to look like a lost cause.

The article was about a murder in New Jersey four years prior, and the website was sketchy as fuck, but about halfway down the page was a paragraph about who had ended up being convicted for the crime.

The convict was some greasy looking dude named Gerard Way (they’d included a mugshot in the article), but apparently he’d been bailed out before going to trial - that part wasn’t particularly interesting, but what was interesting was the following sentence.

Apparently, as the Gerard dude was being arrested, he kept claiming that he was innocent and that his thirteen-year-old brother Michael was responsible instead; the cops obviously didn’t believe him, as Gerard had an extensive criminal history and Michael was barely a teenager, but he’d supposedly been one of the suspects for the crime as well.

Gabe scrolled down some more and was met with a picture of Gerard and the brother, and he felt his heart drop, because the thirteen-year-old brother looked exactly like Mikey Way.

Gabe opened a new tab and looked up the headline of the article, and sure enough, hundreds more results showed up, most of them relevant, some of them addressing a drug ring in New Jersey supposedly run by someone with the last name Way, some of them addressing the murder, some of them addressing other various crimes that Gerard Way - as well as his brother - had committed.

And if that wasn’t irrefutable evidence that something was up with Mikey Way, Gabe didn’t know what was.


	7. THEY'LL BE HERE PRETTY SOON

“Gabe, you’re crazy,” was what Pete said when Gabe told him everything before class on Monday. “It’s a different person.”

“There was a fucking picture,” Gabe argued, shaking Pete’s shoulder urgently. “It was him, I swear to god, it was him. I can show it to you later.”

Mikey sat down next to Gabe as usual, waving at the friend group and smiling. “Hey, guys.”

Gabe’s eyes widened, like a deer caught in headlights, and he moved his chair as close to Pete’s as he physically could.

“You’re scared of me,” Mikey deadpanned, and his smile faded away. “Why?”

“We know what you did,” Gabe spat, and Pete noticed that he was shaking just a little bit, his leg bouncing up and down underneath his desk. “Leave us alone.”

“He’s got a little bit of a problem,” Pete said, grabbing Gabe’s arm and trying to signal him to shut the fuck up.

“You’re the one with the problem. God!” Gabe pried Pete off of him, turning to face his friend with a look of anger and disappointment shining in his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re defending him instead of listening to me! We’ve been friends for sixteen years, Pete, and how long have you known him? A month?”

“Gabe, you need to calm down.”

“You need to listen to me. You’re not fucking listening.”

“Because what you’re saying is totally irrational! Jesus Christ, you found one article on the fucking three thousandth page of Google and now you’re absolutely convinced that Mikey’s a fucking criminal? He’s not, Gabe.”

Gabe paused, looking over at Patrick, who had chosen to keep reading his book instead of intervening, and then at Pete.

“I found a lot of shit,” Gabe said, “but it doesn’t matter.”

And he stood up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and walking out of the classroom.

“Maybe you should’ve listened to him,” Patrick suggested, still not looking up, and Pete scowled at him. “This is a really stupid argument. Go after him.”

“Patrick, I’m not gonna-”

“Pete.”

Pete crossed his arms like a sullen toddler and sunk down in his desk. “I told you, I’m not gonna. The bell is gonna ring soon, anyways.”

—

So now Gabe was pissed off at Pete, and for the first time since sixth grade the seat to Pete’s left was empty. Patrick stayed out of it like he always did when his best friends started up petty arguments, and like always he played the role of the mediator, because he was the only one mature enough to deal with things like these.

“So Brendon’s coming on Saturday night,” Patrick said, curled up on an armchair in Pete’s living room while Pete and Mikey shared the couch, “and if you don’t just fucking say sorry to Gabe, you won’t be invited.”

“Come on,” Pete scoffed, “I’m his best friend. He can’t not invite me.”

“It’s his house,” Mikey pointed out, and Patrick nodded. “Don’t ruin shit because you’re too stubborn to apologize, babe.”

“So you’re really just going to let him spew bullshit about how you’re a dangerous criminal?”

Mikey shrugged, tugging at a loose curl in Pete’s hair. “Like you said, it’s bullshit, and I think this is more about how you won’t listen to him rather than how you won’t agree with him. Do you straighten your hair?”

“Religiously,” Patrick said amusedly. “You should see him in the mornings.”

“Curly hair is cute,” Mikey commented, “you should go a day without straightening yours for once.”

“You’re more likely to find me dead,” Pete scoffed. “Why are we talking about this?”

“Because I’m tired of hearing you whine about Gabe,” Mikey replied, kissing Pete’s temple, and Patrick nodded wildly. “Why didn’t you just hang out with him if all you wanted to do was ramble on about how pissed off you are?”

“You just said it. I’m pissed off at him.”

Patrick glanced over at the clock hanging on the back wall and promptly stood up, straightening out his shirt. “I’ve gotta be home soon,” he said, “you should apologize. I’m just saying.”

“I can drive you,” Mikey offered, and Patrick furrowed his eyebrows, cautiously shaking his head.

“Yeah, no. My parents would flip if they saw me get out of that thing you drive. No offense.” Patrick stopped by the front door to pull his jacket on and pick up his backpack, and when he was done, he added, “thanks, though. I’ll see you both at school tomorrow.”

Mikey and Pete were both silent for a few moments after Patrick left before the former said, “he’s probably afraid that the brakes don’t work or some shit.”

“I mean, I was afraid that there wouldn’t be seatbelts at first,” Pete chipped in, “which is another valid fear. You should get your truck fixed up.”

“You couldn’t catch me dead with a new car,” Mikey replied, and he pulled his trusty pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Mind if I smoke?”

Pete sighed. “Yeah, actually, I do, but it’s not like you’ll listen to me.”

“I do what I want.”

“You really fucking do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter isn't my favorite but it's only a filler anyways so it's fine lol


	8. LOOKING THROUGH MY ROOM FOR THE MONEY

Mikey had been right when he’d said that inviting a popular kid to a party would have the whole school begging to be invited as well; everyone loved Brendon, and there were people that had never even talked to Pete, let alone Gabe, hanging out in Gabe’s front garden once Pete and Mikey finally got there.

Pete wasn’t entirely sure if he was invited or not, but he supposed that there wasn’t really much Gabe could do if he was still mad, and all the former could really do was hope that his friend wouldn’t open the door once he knocked.

Well, actually, the front door was open, which probably wasn’t a very smart thing to do, especially at night and without any mature adults on the premises, but as mentioned beforehand, nothing ever happened in Corinth. It would shake the nation if a crime like theft were to ever happen there.

“So what the hell are you even supposed to do at parties?” Mikey asked, raising his voice so that Pete could at least somewhat hear him over all of the commotion happening inside. “Besides get laid in someone’s parents’ bedroom.”

“Well, for starters, you were supposed to dress up,” Pete said, gesturing towards the sea of costumed people mingling in the living room, “because it’s Halloween and all.”

“I did dress up.”

“Then what the fuck are you supposed to be?”

“A teenager. The scariest thing of them all.”

“God, Pete, I can’t believe you came,” Patrick said, and he held onto his friend’s arm, presumably to keep his balance. Patrick hadn’t really dressed up, either - he’d only put on a pair of plastic devil horns and worn a red shirt, but it was better than nothing. “He didn’t really want you to come.”

“I like your horns,” Mikey said.

“I like your, uh,” Patrick took a step back and looked Mikey up and down, “what are you supposed to be?”

“A teenager,” Pete replied before Mikey could. “Why didn’t he want me here?”

“He’s still kind of pissed,” Patrick explained, “and I guess he figured you’d bring Mikey, and he doesn’t really like Mikey, so.”

“Mikey’s my boyfriend. Of course I’d bring him,” Pete scoffed, and Mikey nudged him gently. “Where’s Gabe, anyways?”

“Somewhere partying his ass off. He’s perfect for the party scene, why the hell did he ever want to hang out with us?” Patrick grinned to himself like he was remembering something funny. “I’m gonna go get a drink. I love your fucking vampire outfit, by the way.”

Patrick disappeared back into the crowd and Mikey laughed quietly. “He does have a thing for vampires, doesn’t he?”

“Only shitty ones that sparkle in the sunlight.” Pete smiled, looking up at Mikey. “We should go and find Gabe, you know, to check if we’re cool or not.”

“Yeah.”

\--

Gabe was in the den, sitting on his dad’s faux-leather couch with a girl under each arm, and Pete had to clear his throat several times to finally catch his friend’s attention.

“Oh, hi, Pete!” Gabe exclaimed, his voice loud and his words slurred. “Peter. Petey. You’re here!”

“This will be a lot less awkward if we’re alone,” Pete sighed.

Gabe pouted and whispered something to the girls he was sitting with; Pete couldn’t hear what he said, but it seemed to be effective, as the girls promptly got up and left the room.

“You’ve gotta make him go, too,” Gabe said, gesturing wildly at Mikey, who was standing behind Pete. “If I can’t keep my hot dates around, neither can you.”

Pete turned around and looked apologetically at his boyfriend. “Just go get me a drink or something. Or candy. I hope someone brought candy.”

“Patrick hid all the good food before people came,” Gabe commented. “If you ask him nicely, he might tell you where it is. Get me a drink, too, I think I’m gonna need it.”

Mikey left and Pete took a seat on the arm of the sofa. Gabe stared vigilantly at the door for a few moments until he could be sure that Mikey was gone, and then turned to his friend.

“I already feel so much safer,” Gabe said, glaring at Pete, and Pete sighed. “I told you to get rid of him.”

“You’re insane. I can't believe I bothered showing up here.”

“Didn’t Patrick tell you not to come? I told him to tell you.” Gabe narrowed his eyes, and Pete sighed again.

“Patrick thinks this is stupid,” Pete replied, “and so do I.”

“Well, Patrick told me you’re still pissed off about it, too.”

Pete pressed his lips together and slid down onto the couch. “Maybe we’re both in the wrong, you know.”

Gabe moved back. “I know I’m not. I’m positive. When’s your serial killer boyfriend coming back with my drink?”

“‘Serial killer?’ Where’d that come from?”

“From him being a fucking serial killer,” Gabe hissed. “I’m not just spewing bullshit, Pete, I’ve looked him up.”

“So you stalked him, basically.”

“He’s from New Jersey. His family are involved with drugs and gangs and all that shit, and he’s been killing people and dealing illegal drugs since forever. He fucked up, giving us his real name, you know.”

“Even if that were true,” Pete said, “which it obviously isn’t, Mikey’s a good person and I like him a lot.”

Gabe leaned back. “This is gonna cost you someday, Pete. Don’t come running to me once he really kills someone, someone we all know.”

“I’ll be sure not to.”

The door opened and Mikey came through, throwing a bag of gummy worms at Pete and holding a cup for Gabe. Gabe scowled and grabbed his cup, tilting his head back and downing it almost instantly.

“Jesus,” Gabe said, “I’m going back outside. This is my party, and I want to have fun.” He stood, slamming his empty cup down on a side table, and marched towards the door. “Bye, Pete.”

Pete waved, and Mikey took Gabe’s place on the sofa.

“So,” Mikey said, “did you guys make up?”

“Not even close,” Pete replied bitterly, “but I’m sure he’ll come to his senses eventually.”

“Eventually.” Mikey reached for one of Pete’s gummy worms and popped it in his mouth. “Man, I hate parties.”

“Then why’d you come?”

“Because you wanted me to, and I swear, you’re my fucking Achilles heel.” Mikey bit his lip, moving closer to Pete. “I haven’t liked anyone like I like you in a long time.”

Something deep inside Pete’s brain remembered a CD inside of Mikey’s car, but he didn’t really dwell upon it, instead deciding to lean in and kiss his boyfriend.

They were alone. It was okay.

—

Patrick was kind of really drunk, and Gabe was apparently passed out in his room, so that meant Pete and Mikey had to stick around and kick everyone out come four in the morning.

“He hates me,” Pete was saying, stacking empty cups lying about the living room, “and I can’t believe I’m cleaning up after his goddamn party.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Mikey said, and he was rearranging pillows on the couch and on armchairs to make it look like people hadn’t been fucking on them earlier. “Just annoyed.”

There was the noise of Patrick - who’d gone up to Gabe’s room to pick up his sweater - running down the stairs, and Pete hurried over, afraid that his friend might trip and fall or something.

Sure enough, Patrick stumbled over the last step, and Pete had to catch him; the former was shaking, his breathing heavy and erratic, and Pete could feel his heart beating quickly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, rubbing Patrick’s arm, and Patrick grabbed his friend’s shoulders so he could stand upright.

“Gabe’s not breathing,” he sputtered, “not moving, not breathing, his hand is so cold, Pete, he’s dead, he’s dead, Pete-”

“What’s happening?” Mikey asked, peering around the corner, and Pete was already running upstairs and down the hall.

Gabe’s room was silent, and Pete knew, from hundreds of sleepovers and car rides with him, that Gabe snored in his sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm really bad at posting consistently like i've had this chapter done since october and i didn't think to post it until now lmao.
> 
> but anyways, this is only the beginning of the drama and i'm really hyped for everything that's next :))


	9. I'M BITING MY NAILS

Mikey's car didn’t have a heater, as one would probably expect, and Pete was wearing two sweaters underneath his coat and one of Patrick’s scarves, but that wasn’t even enough to keep him warm from the vicious northeastern fall weather. There’d been a CD in the glovebox labelled “holidays” and Pete had put it on in a weak attempt to lighten the mood, but you could only listen to Mariah Carey sing about Christmas a certain number of times before you started to go insane.

It had been two weeks, or so Pete thought, because being locked in your room for days on end had a tendency to fuck with your perception of time. Nothing had changed besides the temperature continuing to dive and the amount of people that had suddenly started to care about Pete and Patrick in the time following the incident, because unwanted pity was often a side effect of tragedy.

There had been a lot of sirens that night, right after Pete had dialed 911 and cried into the phone and the operator had said that there were people on their way. Nothing ever happened in Corinth, and that night had been something lucky for law enforcement - they finally got to do their job at the expense of the life of an innocent teenage boy.

Nobody knew exactly how it had happened and nobody would probably ever know besides maybe Gabe’s parents and the doctors working on the autopsy. All anyone was sure of was that he was dead.

The remaining hour or so of that night had been a blur, really, and all Pete could remember was Mikey driving him home and watching the sun rise from his bedroom window. Patrick had stayed over, and he hadn’t been home in nearly two weeks; the company probably helped him, and Pete wasn’t about to force him to leave, because it helped him out, too.

And then there was Mikey, who remained a distant mystery, just like always.

“Are you okay?” Mikey asked from the driver’s seat, a cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth and his hand on Pete’s leg. He must’ve turned the music off or something, because aside from the rumbling of the engine, nothing could be heard.

“Perfectly fine,” Pete replied. “Where are we even going?”

“Anywhere but here. It’s too fucking depressing.”

Pete opened the glovebox and sifted through Mikey's CD stash in search of something else to play, because the silence was deafening and Mariah Carey even more so. He ended up pulling something out by random, and he didn’t even take a look at what was written on the case before taking out the disc and putting it in the machine.

The first song that played was, undeniably, Party Rock Anthem, and while it almost made Pete laugh, Mikey visibly flinched the moment the music started playing.

“Jesus Christ,” he said, and he looked sort of panicked as he reached over and ejected the CD. “Play something else.”

“The fuck do you have against Party Rock Anthem?” Pete asked, grinning, but his amused expression faded when he noticed how serious Mikey was.

“I just - play something else, Pete, Jesus Christ.”

Pete nodded silently and put the disc back in its case - it was almost disgustingly dirty, but in fading Sharpie, “Ray” was written across the front. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry. This is the thing you made for your ex.”

“Yeah,” Mikey said, evidently calmer now that Pete was looking for something else to play. “I’m not sure why I’ve still got it in the first place. Remind me to get rid of it later.”

“Damn, he must’ve done some bad shit or something,” Pete replied absentmindedly, taking out a new CD and putting it in the player.

“Or something.”

“Well, I won’t do bad shit to you.” Pete looked over at Mikey, who was concentrating on the road and pretending like Party Rock Anthem hadn’t just scared the shit out of him. “I hope you know that. I’m not even capable of it.”

“Likewise,” Mikey said, and it looked like he wanted to say something else, but all he did was tap the steering wheel and smoke his cancer stick.

Pete wondered what Patrick was doing back at his house. He hoped he wasn’t too lonely or anything, because even though Patrick had said that it was totally fine that Pete went out with Mikey didn’t mean that he really thought it was.

Patrick said a lot of things he didn’t mean, especially as of late, but he’d always been terrible at lying, and Pete could always see right through him, anyways. He didn’t like seeming vulnerable all that much, and maybe he thought that if he convinced himself that he was okay, then he would really turn out to be in the end.

He wasn’t okay, though, and anyone that cared at all could tell. Pete contemplated calling Patrick and asking if he was doing alright, but he knew Patrick would just lie about it and refuse any and all help. That’s how he’d been for the past few weeks, and although it worried Pete to hell and back, there really wasn’t much that he could do about it if Patrick wouldn’t even talk to him about it.

“Where are we going?” Pete asked again. He’d been on the road with Mikey for a solid forty five minutes by then, and the only thing surrounding the road ahead were walls of barren trees.

“Damned if I know,” Mikey replied. “I’m just following this road.”

“Do you even know how to get back?” Pete pulled his jacket closer to him, maybe hoping that it’d somehow make him warmer. “I don’t want to get lost. We’ll, like, get mauled by bears or something.”

“I’ll just turn around and follow the road back, dumbass,” Mikey said, though his tone was affectionate and he glanced over at Pete briefly and smiled. “And besides, any bear that wants to fuck with you has to get through me first.”

“You can’t fight a bear.”

“You don’t know that.” Mikey's cigarette had finally been used to its full potential, which meant that he would roll up the window and maybe the car would feel a little bit less like Antarctica. “I’d totally do it if it meant saving you. I’d kick some serious bear ass.”

“Glad to know I’m in such safe hands,” Pete said, and he leaned over on Mikey's shoulder. “Hey. Take me to the end of this fucking road. Maybe we’ll find paradise or some shit.”

“You’ve got it.”


	10. I'M TOO YOUNG TO GO TO JAIL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey it's been ages but i'm finally back on my bullshit B) i totally forgot how much i love writing this
> 
> anyways. pete is a dumbass. enjoy

Mikey had almost lost track of how many people he’d killed in his lifetime, but the guilt that came with something like that never went away. It wasn’t like he wanted to grow up to be a murderer or anything, but when you had to live in the circumstances he did back when he was younger, there wasn’t much of a choice. It was always kill or be killed, no compromises.

So it had kind of become second nature for him, and it was the reason why he’d run away from home in the first place.

He was locked in a bathroom stall at a gas station a couple miles away from the New York town that he’d decided to call his new home, because he’d become too much of a celebrity for him to handle. Even weeks later, there were still news reporters and policemen all over him and Pete and Patrick, because they’d been there when Gabe had died and that was all anyone knew about it.

The results of the autopsy that had been done suggested that it was an accidental suicide - there’d been traces of codeine in Gabe’s bloodstream, and anyone with basic knowledge on the drug knew that its effects were fatal if taken with alcohol, which was also suggested by the autopsy.

So Mikey still had it in him, thank god. He’d rather get shot than have to endure being charged with murder and locked up in prison for years on end.

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t still being eaten alive by guilt, though; what he’d done wasn’t exactly justified and he knew it, but he’d just panicked, and Gabe had been pissing him off, and there’d been cough syrup hidden away in the bathroom (Mikey totally wasn’t looking for prescription drugs to sell for money) and the next thing he knew, he was pouring it into Gabe’s drink and then the deed was done.

God. He hadn’t killed anyone in a while, and he hadn’t missed it at all. He hadn’t run away just to go back to having blood on his hands and the cops on his trail - he’d fucked up and he knew it.

Mikey, like always, had a gun tucked into one of the interior pockets of his jacket, and he pulled it out. He’d loaded it with a bullet or two before he’d come to the gas station with complete intent on shooting himself in that disgusting ass bathroom stall and stopping himself before he could end up fucking up even worse, and the more he stared at it, the more he wished that he’d shot himself all those years ago instead of doing what he did.

Sighing, he rested his forehead against the gun’s barrel. What did he even have left, anyways? Why shouldn’t he blow his brains out against the wall?

As he was about to flick off the safety, his phone started ringing in his pocket - he could probably afford something better, but he still had one of those shitty pull-out keyboard phones just because it was easier that way. He didn’t have anyone’s number saved, just in case, so he had no clue as to who was calling. He didn’t really want to know, anyways, but telling a potential telemarketer to fuck off would be a nice last thing to do. So he answered the call.

“Hi, Mikes,” said Pete from the other end of the call. “Look, I know you don’t like talking on the phone, and I don’t either, so I’m sorry-”

“My god, Pete, hi.” Mikey moved his finger away from the safety.

“Is this a bad time?”

“No, it’s fine.” The gun fell into Mikey's lap and he pressed his phone against his ear. “Why are you calling me?”

“Uh, well, Patrick fell asleep and I kinda wanna get out of here? Can you come get me?”

Mikey sighed, staring down at the gun before shoving it back into his pocket. Goddamnit. “Yeah, of course.”

“God, thank you so much. I love you, Mikeyway.”

The gun didn’t seem to matter anymore, and for a second, everything felt okay. “I love you, too.”

\--

Pete hadn’t really specified where he wanted to go when he’d said “I kinda wanna get out of here,” so they ended up sitting on the shore by the river, which wasn’t a very safe idea considering it was nighttime and they were pretty much surrounded by forest, but hey, Mikey had a loaded gun.

“My god,” Pete said, kicking at the soil they were sitting on with the heels of his sneakers, “I could really use a smoke right now.”

Mikey raised an eyebrow and turned to the other. “You haven’t smoked once in your entire life, babe, and you hate smokers.”

“Yeah, well, that was before I realized why they do it. I am emotionally exhausted, Mikeyway, and I know you’ve probably got a few of those things on you right now, so you should let me.”

Frowning, Mikey put his hand on Pete’s shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yes. No.” Pete rubbed his eyes and sighed, looking over at Mikey exasperatedly. “I don’t fucking know anymore. Life sucks. I don’t know. I’m cold.”

Instinctively, Mikey took off his jacket and wrapped it around Pete’s shoulders; Pete offered a smile to his boyfriend before pulling it on and hugging it close to his body. “Does that help? At least a little?”

“Yeah, thank you - god, what’s in this pocket? A fucking rock?”

And then Mikey was left in terrified silence as Pete fished around the outside pocket first before opening the coat and reaching into the inside pocket, which held the gun that Mikey'd forgotten to leave in his car. He didn’t know how the hell he’d managed to forget something like that. He shouldn’t have forgotten about something like that.

Pete pulled out the gun, turning it over in his hands a few times before looking up at Mikey. “Jesus, is this real?”

“Give it to me,” Mikey said, reaching out for the gun, but Pete pulled it away and continued examining it. “Come on, Pete, please, I’ve gotta unload it before you accidentally shoot something-”

“So it’s real and loaded? What the fuck?” Pete now looked very understandably concerned, and he handed it over hastily, eyes wide. “Are you gonna shoot me?”

Mikey pointed the gun at the river, and as he began unloading it, he saw Pete move closer to him out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t be fucking ridiculous. Why the hell would I shoot you?”

“I dunno, god, why the hell would you have that with you if you’re not planning on shooting someone?”

That was kind of ironic. “I brought it so that I could protect you,” Mikey lied, discreetly slipping the bullets into the pocket of his jeans and then looking over at Pete, whose demeanor notably relaxed as he heard that. “I know it sounds dumb, but, like, we’re pretty much in the middle of nowhere. You never know what’s out here at night. You never know when you’ll need me to shoot a motherfucker.”

“It does sound really dumb, but I appreciate the sentiment.” Pete grinned and kissed Mikey on the cheek before resting his head on his shoulder. God, Pete was oblivious, but Mikey kind of loved him for it. “Thanks for looking out for me, badass. I love you. I really do.”

“You said that on the phone earlier,” Mikey said, and he was about to say something about how it stopped him from painting a bathroom stall with his own blood before registering that something like that would definitely ruin the moment. Ruining things seemed to be his forte, but he certainly wasn’t going to let himself ruin what he had with Pete. “I love you too.”


End file.
